


The Having of Wonderful Ideas

by mmouse15



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-12
Updated: 2010-12-12
Packaged: 2019-02-02 12:55:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12727011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mmouse15/pseuds/mmouse15
Summary: Jazz has learned about Earth music and wants to share that with Prowl.





	The Having of Wonderful Ideas

**Author's Note:**

> Summary/Notes: This is based off real life experiences. I am old enough to remember when Transformers first came out, even if I was too busy with college to watch. I also was enthralled with Mannheim Steamroller and their fresh take on Christmas carols, which really changed the way Christmas music was played on the radio. However, they lost their freshness for me with their third album; it sounded like the same old stuff. However, the TSO released their album about the same time as MS released their third album, and I remember my first listen to 'Christmas Eve/Sarajavo 12/24' and how stunned I was at the blending. It remains my favorite TSO song, but I remember being really mad at the DJ for not telling me who this group was! They really did ask listeners to call in and tell them if they liked the music, since it was so different than anything else being played at the time on the pop stations and they didn't know if they should continue to play it. The listeners were overwhelmingly in favor of more songs from this group, I'm glad to say!
> 
> So I hope you enjoy this look back in time, when the TSO was brand new to the music scene.

Title: The Having of Wonderful Ideas  
By: mmouse15  
Day: 12  
Prompt: Trans-Siberian Orchestra (going to or listening to)  
Verse: G1  
Rating: G  
Words: ~1750  
Other Characters: Blaster  
Warnings: none

 

Jazz gave a small salute to Sideswipe as he replaced him at the comms board. Blaster, sitting at his own comms board, gave Jazz a smile before returning his attention to the communiqué he was deciphering. Jazz plugged into the board and began doing his own scans through all the channels, rapidly cataloguing messages into their various priorities. He gave passing thought to the explosion of data channels that had occurred over the past ten years, since they had come out of stasis on Earth. Not only were there military channels, radio channels and television channels, but now they had to monitor the computer channels, too. Jazz grinned to himself; he enjoyed the challenge of skimming through so much data and cataloguing it as quickly as he could. Others were not so fond of the job, but Jazz always just laughed. Cybertron, at its peak of civilization, would have drowned the human's idea of data exchange in mere seconds.

He tuned into one of the local radio channels, grimacing at the caterwauling of the latest pop princess as she did the obligatory Christmas carol that reaching the top of the charts seemed to mean. He changed what he was listening to, but not before Blaster caught his grimace.

"What's up, Jazz?" Blaster asked.

Jazz shrugged. "I get kind of bored with the whole Christmas carol thing, you know? It seems like the same songs over and over, sung at different tempos, but the same songs."

Blaster looked puzzled and asked, "What about that group you liked?"

"Mannheim Steamroller?" Jazz asked.

"Yeah, them," Blaster said, "I thought you really liked their interpretation of the carols."

"I do, but I've listened to those first two albums over and over, Blaster, and I don't like the third one as much. I want something new." Jazz grumbled.

Blaster grinned. "Then I've got just the thing for you. Hang on…" a channel pinged for Jazz's attention, and automatically he connected to it.

"Listen to that," Blaster said, and returned his attention to his decryption.

Jazz listened to the song, loving how a single cello played, followed by an orchestra, then layered with a rock sound, the rock band and orchestra playing two different songs and blending them together, making a completely new sound that really grabbed his attention. He waited for the end of the song, listening intently as the DJ came on, but the man didn't give him the name of the song, only said, 

"A new Christmas release – we want to hear what you think of it! Call us and let us know!"

Jazz growled at the comm board, and jumped slightly when Blaster laughed.

"They didn't tell you the name, did they?"

"No, they didn't. But it's awesome!" Jazz turned to enthuse at Blaster, then narrowed his optics behind the visor. "You know the name."

"Yes, I do. What will you give me in return for it?" Blaster leaned back, smirking at Jazz.

Jazz thought about that for a while, then replied, "I'll give you a can of my good wax."

Blaster dropped back down. Jazz didn't share his wax with just anyone, and the formula was a closely held secret, since Jazz mixed his own. "Two cans."

"Deal."

Blaster reached over and he and Jazz shook hands on it. "It's called Christmas Eve/Sarajevo 12/24, by a new group called the Trans-Siberian Orchestra. Keep an optic on them; I think they're going to be big."

Jazz nodded. "Is this their first album?"

"Yes," Blaster replied, "they just formed last year, and this is their first release. I'll get you a copy of the whole album, OK?"

"That would be great," Jazz replied, then turned his attention to the comm channels.

0x0x0x0x0x0x0x

Years later, after truing to convince Prowl to listen to any Christmas music, Jazz was delighted to find that the TSO was now touring, and he promptly got in touch with the promoters and requested tickets and access for he and Prowl. Pleased with their response and clutching the oversized tickets they'd sent as a gift, he sprung the surprise on Prowl.

"…and they're giving us a spot right in the center – it's still at the back of the venue so we won't block people from seeing – but they're excited that we'll be coming!"

"Jazz, I don't really like human music," Prowl reminded his friend.

Jazz put his hands on his hips in imitation of Carly when she was chewing out her husband. "Prowl, after all the trouble you went through to get me to appreciate human culture, you're going to pull that on me? No way, buddy. You owe me for that stunt with the Marines."

Prowl looked at him oddly. "Jazz, that was fifteen years ago."

"Right, it's about time you paid me back," Jazz replied cheerfully.

Prowl opened his mouth, then closed it again. "I can't win this one, can I?"

"Nope," Jazz told him cheerfully, "so be prepared. It's tomorrow night, and Blaster's doing you a favor and covering your shift. Prime sends his blessings."

Prowl's doors drooped. "Alright. What do I need to bring?"

Jazz shrugged, "Yourself. We need to leave by 3 PM to get there in plenty of time, so I'll meet you by the front doors then."

"Fine," Prowl answered. 

Jazz waited. Prowl looked at him.

"You gotta promise me you'll be there. Otherwise, you'll find some way to wiggle out and leave me hanging," Jazz explained.

Prowl grit his denta together. Caught by the master, he finally nodded. "I promise to meet you by the front doors of the Ark at 3 o'clock tomorrow afternoon."

"Excellent!" Jazz left, bouncing down the hallway in excitement.

Prowl closed his office door, dreading the time spent with Jazz in such close quarters. He had successful fought his attraction to the mech for a long time, but something about this planet made it more difficult to remember that they were only friends.

The next afternoon, as promised, Prowl was waiting at the doors of the Ark. Jazz bounced up and they folded down into their alt-modes, driving carefully along the dirt road until they reached the highway, then heading west to the big city.

Their drive was pleasant and uneventful. The venue was an open air amphitheatre, which allowed Jazz and Prowl to settle themselves on the grassy area against the back wall of the area. The people that ran the venue helped them get settled, then strung stanchions and rope around the two mechs to define their space.

They watched the people file in for the show, casually chatting back and forth. The TSO had become very popular for their fresh take on Christmas carols, and Prowl could see that the people were very excited to be at this concert.

Jazz was practically vibrating with his own excitement, and Prowl found his enthusiasm contagious. He watched the people find seats on the grassy area, while others sat in rows of seats closer to the stage.

Jazz explained that the seats were assigned seating and cost more, but the grassy area was open seating, so the people had to mark their seats, which they did with blankets or coats spread out on the grass.

"So why did they put a rope barrier around us?" Prowl asked.

"More for the safety of the people than for our benefit. Little fingers getting caught in our gears because we can't feel them, or some other accident like that would be bad press, Prowl. So the organizers offered to give us a little bit of room." Jazz waved at a little girl looking at him. Bashfully, she ducked her head into her daddy's shoulder, then peeked out again. Jazz grinned at her, and she lifted her head and grinned back at him. Prowl watched with a pang in his spark. Mech or human, Jazz was so good with the young of the species.

As the sun set, the lights came up on the stage and the show began.

Since this was the first time they'd toured, Jazz had no idea what to expect. The loud music was fine, but he hadn't know about the lights and fireworks and incredible visual feast. He turned to Prowl to enthuse about a specific set of lights and found him with his optics off and doors flat against his back.

 _::Prowl?::_ Jazz sent, worried.

 _::Yes, Jazz?::_ Prowl replied.

_::Are you alright?::_

_::Yes, I'm fine. You're right. This is quite good music.::_ Prowl told him.

Jazz frowned. Prowl didn't look comfortable with his doors flattened like that. _::That's nice. Why do you have your optics off?::_

_::The pyrotechnical show is a bit overwhelming for the sensitivity setting I use, but it takes Ratchet or Hoist to dial down the sensitivity. So I am saving the receptors by simply turning them off. You'll have to share your captures with me.::_

_::And the doors?::_ Jazz asked.

_::Same thing, only I can't really turn those receptors down at all. So I've tucked them behind my body where they only pick up the data from behind me. I am enjoying the show, Jazz.::_

_::OK, Prowl.::_ Jazz turned back to the show, but his enjoyment was spoiled. He and Prowl stayed until the very end of the show, watching the people stream out of the amphitheatre to head to their homes.

The people in charge came and removed the barrier when there were only a few lingering souls about. Jazz thanked them for their time and attention, then left with Prowl.

The drive back to the Ark was mostly quiet, with Jazz brooding while Prowl played many of the songs they had listened to that evening on his stereo. Prowl finally noticed Jazz's silence.

_::Jazz? What's wrong?::_

_::I finally get you to a concert and you can't enjoy it properly.::_ Jazz grumbled.

Prowl was silent for a moment, then sent _::I enjoyed it very much, Jazz, because I got to spend time with you. That the music was good was a bonus. Thank you for a wonderful evening.::_

Jazz was stunned. He'd thought that Prowl had really hated the show, despite his reassurances, but to hear that Prowl had enjoyed it simply because Jazz had also been there required some thinking on his part.

Prowl had accelerated away from him and was humming smoothly along the highway. Jazz sped up and caught up to his friend, his good mood restored.

_::Thanks, Prowl.::_

_::You're welcome, Jazz. Thank you for the wonderful treat.::_

In companionable silence, they returned to the Ark.


End file.
